The sky was warm that day.
Not the oppressive heat of fire qi or the still heaviness before a storm, but the kind of golden warmth that made the Ji Clan's estate feel almost alive. Spirit blossoms floated lazily from the high branches of cloudwillows, scenting the air with faint plum and lotus. In the servant quarters, some of the younger girls were humming while folding linens.
Shen Liuyin walked home from her morning shift, a small smile tugging at her lips.
Her hands still smelled faintly of the tea leaves she'd ground by hand. She had placed the cup exactly where he preferred it, with the steam just beginning to curl and the lid aligned with the edge of the table. She hadn't seen Ji Yuanheng that morning—he rarely spoke—but she had caught the faintest trail of sandalwood in the corridor.
That meant he passed by. That meant he was there.
And if he was there… he had seen her cup.
Just the thought sent a tiny flutter through her chest.
She passed two older servants scrubbing the garden steps, bowed politely, and continued toward the side corridor that led to her shared room.
The air changed the moment she stepped inside.
The scent of medicine.
And something else—sharper. Metallic. Like blood.
"Yueyin?" she called gently.
No answer.
The blanket on the mat was rumpled.
Shen Liuyin hurried forward and dropped to her knees.
Shen Yueyin lay curled up on her side, her skin deathly pale, sweat clinging to her brow. Her lips were slightly blue. Her breathing came in short, labored gasps. One trembling hand clutched at the mat like she'd been reaching for something in her sleep.
Liuyin's heart lurched.
"Yueyin?!"
Her sister stirred weakly. Her eyes blinked open—glazed, unfocused.
"I—I'm cold," she whispered.
And then she coughed.
Once.
Twice.
The third time, she turned her face into the blanket—and blood splattered the fabric.
Liuyin stared.
For a heartbeat, her body didn't react.
Then she moved all at once, grabbing the water basin, soaking a cloth, pressing it to Yueyin's forehead.
"It's okay. I'm here. It's just a fever. It's just—"
Her voice cracked. "You'll be okay."
She turned and rushed out into the corridor, calling for help.
---
The healer came half an hour later. An older servant with the scent of dried herbs in his sleeves and two jars clinking at his belt. He examined Yueyin silently, frowned, and gave Liuyin a satchel of crushed moon-leaf, instructing her to brew it with warm water and whisper her sister's name while pouring.
"It may help… if her soul hasn't begun to loosen."
The words chilled her.
She did everything the healer said.
Held Yueyin up. Blew gently on the surface of the medicine so it wouldn't scald. Smiled even when her hands were shaking.
But by dusk, her sister was coughing again.
Worse.
Her body twitched now. Her breathing came in sharp, panicked bursts.
---
Another servant, older, kind-eyed, whispered to her:
"There's an elixir in the inner court vault. A spirit-cleansing pill. It purges rot from the lungs."
Liuyin's eyes widened. "Where?"
The servant hesitated. "It's locked behind spiritual seal. Only the young master… or the steward under his seal… can approve access."
Ji Yuanheng.
"You'll never get in," the servant said gently. "Even if you kneel. Girls like us… we're not meant to be noticed."
But Liuyin was already rising.
She looked down at her sister.
Yueyin's lips moved, trying to form her name.
Liuyin knelt and smoothed her sister's damp hair back from her forehead.
"Wait for me," she whispered.
"Just a little longer."
She stood, turned, and walked out into the twilight.
---
Her footsteps were fast. Quiet. Certain.
Every breath felt like fire in her chest, but she held it in.
The main hall loomed ahead—tall, distant, glowing with lantern light. She didn't know if Ji Yuanheng was still there.
But he was the only one who could save her sister now.
And Shen Liuyin still believed he would.
He had to.
Didn't he?
_____
The inner court glowed with amber light as Shen Liuyin ran barefoot across the jade tiles, ignoring the startled looks from passing servants and disciples.
A deep bell rang across the sky, marking the start of twilight meditation. But she didn't slow. Her feet slapped the ground, her robes tangled around her ankles, her breath ragged from running. A streak of blood marked her sleeve where she'd wiped her sister's mouth earlier—she hadn't even noticed.
Her heart was a drum. Her pulse, a scream.
"Please be here," she whispered. "Please—just this once."
The main hall of the Thousand Star Court stood like a sacred cliff before her—polished white stone, towering columns, a gate inscribed with ancient runes that shimmered under the setting sun.
From inside, she could hear voices—low, refined, measured.
Ji Yuanheng was still in session.
Her legs almost gave out in relief.
Without pausing to consider what she was doing, she dropped to her knees in front of the open doors. Her hands pressed against the cold floor. Her voice cracked with the weight of her desperation.
"Young Master Ji! Please—I beg you!"
Inside the hall, conversation halted. Several elders turned sharply, frowning. The flow of spiritual pressure paused mid-air, taut with disapproval.
She didn't care.
She knelt on the threshold, forehead touching the stone.
"My sister… she's dying. She's been poisoned by a fungal rot spirit. A servant told me there's an elixir—a cleansing pill in the vault. Just one. That's all I ask."
"Please. I don't want it for me. It's for her. She's only nine."
Her voice wavered.
"Please. I will repay it. I will serve twice the years. I'll never speak again if you ask me to. Just… please."
She bowed lower.
Blood from her knees began to soak into the tile.
---
Inside, Ji Yuanheng stood at the head of the discussion table, dressed in midnight-blue robes embroidered with gold stars. His arms were folded behind his back. His expression hadn't changed once since she began speaking.
He didn't move. Didn't speak.
The elders exchanged glances. One of them, a hawk-faced man with a coiled jade serpent on his belt, let out a soft click of his tongue.
"Disruption during court?" he muttered. "Disrespectful."
Another elder waved a hand.
"Probably a trial technique to test the young master's patience," he said dryly. "Servants are growing more theatrical these days."
A steward began walking toward her. His expression was cold, impersonal.
"Leave," he said. "This hall is not for you."
She didn't move.
"Please…"
The steward raised his hand, qi flaring.
But before he could act, Ji Yuanheng lifted a single finger.
The hall fell into stillness.
Everyone waited.
His eyes finally turned to her.
Shen Liuyin's heart surged.
He was looking at her.
He heard her.
He saw—
"You are not important enough to be remembered."
---
The words dropped like ice into fire.
Sharp.
Clean.
Final.
No anger. No cruelty.
Just cold indifference.
He turned.
And walked away.
---
Shen Liuyin remained kneeling, her forehead pressed to the stone floor, eyes wide and unblinking.
The voices inside resumed. Laughter. Polite conversation. The sweep of robes and footsteps fading into distance.
No one looked at her again.
No one helped her up.
No one asked her name.
---
She didn't remember how long she stayed like that.
Eventually, the sun disappeared, and the floor beneath her grew cold. Her body ached. Her fingers were numb. Her knees bled through the fabric.
Still, she didn't move.
---
When she finally rose, the lanterns were lit, and the moon had risen high.
Her face was blank.
Her lips were dry.
She bowed one last time to the empty hall.
"Thank you… for answering."
Her voice was hollow. Almost a whisper.
Then she turned.
And walked back toward the servant quarters.
Not because she believed anything would change.
But because it was all she had left.